


Latch

by handcuffedhale (fizzingweaselbee)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-16 00:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1325086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzingweaselbee/pseuds/handcuffedhale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Jesus, Derek, if you’re not going to use the door, at least knock on the window," Stiles paused, peering around the alpha to look at his mode of entrance. "The window I locked, how did you…?" Stiles trailed off when Derek held up the latch before dropping it onto the desk. "Next time it’ll be mountain ash." Stiles muttered, turning back to his computer and ignoring the huff of annoyance from the werewolf behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Latch

**Author's Note:**

> It's shorter than I was intending my first thing on here to be, but it's a start I guess.
> 
> Send any ideas for new fics to my [tumblr](http://handcuffedhale.tumblr.com/) if you want

He really should be used to people appearing at his shoulder, but somehow it still never failed to make Stiles jump.

"Jesus, Derek, if you’re not going to use the door, at least knock on the window," Stiles paused, peering around the alpha to look at his mode of entrance. "The window I locked, how did you…?" Stiles trailed off when Derek held up the latch before dropping it onto the desk. "Next time it’ll be mountain ash." Stiles muttered, turning back to his computer and ignoring the huff of annoyance from the werewolf behind him. "Do you need anything specific, or are you bored and looking for someone to scare?"

"Why aren’t you finished yet?" Derek asked, or Stiles pretended he asked, because the tone was definitely more demanding than polite.

Stiles sighed, exiting another bullshit webpage. “I’m getting tired of you lot thinking I just Google ‘how to kill the monster’ and then whatever we need comes up immediately. Do you know how much bullshit there is surrounding Spirits? I have to wade through hours of it before I find something even remotely promising, and as we know, that doesn’t always work out,” They both winced at the memory of the Kappa. “So go back to your loft to hang out with your creepy undead uncle, and I’ll come visit when I’ve got something.” There was a silence where Stiles wondered if he’d pushed the boundaries too far again, because yes he was human, but he was also Pack, and Derek was most definitely the Alpha.

The sound of bedsprings made him unhunch his shoulders and spin his chair around, surprised to find Derek sat with his back against the headboard, flicking through one of three bestiaries Stiles had.

"I’ve already looked," Stiles pointed out. "Nothing helpful that I could translate, unless you’re familiar with ancient Slavic dialects." Derek shrugged, and Stiles stared at him in bewilderment.

Derek didn’t look up, but his mouth quirked upwards slightly. “I can smell your surprise, Stiles. What do you think I do when I’m not babysitting you all?”

"Something to do with lurking and practising sneaking up on people?" Stiles paused. "Not that I think about what you do with your free time, because I don’t really care that much, although I’d much rather it was useful things like learning dead languages than coming up with 1000 ways to make Stiles have a heart attack,"

"Stiles?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Yup." Stiles span around on his chair, clicking onto another page that showed some potential. He got so engrossed in his work that he almost forgot Derek was there, except for the light tingling on the back of his neck whenever the alpha looked at him. Stiles had had to get used to that feeling, and was practised at shoving it down in the presence of werewolves - years of dealing with his heart rate when panicked had helped immensely.

When he finally shut down his computer, looking at the pitifully small amount of plausible information he’d scrawled into a notepad, he noticed the light hum and, when he switched on a lamp, he saw Derek’s head resting against the headboard, the bestiary hanging from his hand. Quietly, Stiles stood, grabbing the translations Derek had made and adding them to the pile of notes.

"Derek?" Stiles whispered. "Dude, it’s two in the morning. You have to leave." He paused, frowning. "I know you sleep lightly, you asshole, you have super-werewolf hearing, so stop ignoring me."

Derek opened one pale grey eye. “Shut up.” He ordered before closing it again.

"Shut up? That’s my bed!" Stiles hissed, all too aware of his dad sleeping in the next room, otherwise he’d be yelling. "You might be an alpha but there are boundaries, and my bed is one of them!"

Instead of a response, Derek grabbed hold of Stiles’ wrist and yanked him down next to him. “Go to sleep.” He said, folding his arms across his chest and yawning.

"Fine." Stiles gave in, because there wasn’t much he could do to move a 200lb werewolf, and the niggling voice in the back of his head that said this showed Derek’s trust was louder than usual.

**

When Stiles woke up, his head was on Derek’s shoulder, and he half fell out of the bed, rubbing his eyes. “Dude, why are you still here?” He tentatively shook Derek’s shoulder, and the werewolf slowly opened his eyes, staring blearily at Stiles in a way that made his stomach drop because Derek couldn’t be hot and adorable, it just wasn’t fair.

"Your dad left an hour ago, his shift was switched," Derek mumbled in reply. "I-" Whatever Derek was going to say was interrupted when he went tense, and a second later the doorbell rang.

Stiles stood, torn, before sighing and leaving, padding barefoot downstairs and wondering at what point he’d taken his shirt off.

When he opened the door, Scott was standing with a worried expression on his face. “Hey, Scott, what’s up?” Stiles leant against the doorframe.

"It’s-" Scott paused, and Stiles pulled back a little when Scott took a deep breath. "Why do you smell like Derek?"

Stiles cleared his throat. “He was annoyed I hadn’t finished my research, so he helped for a bit.”

"Huh," Scott surveyed him for a second before letting it drop. "Can I come in? It’s kind of important."

Stiles nodded, hoping Scott would stay downstairs, but instead he took the stairs two at a time. When Stiles finally reached the bedroom, he half-expected to see Derek still asleep on his bed. Instead, the room was empty except for Scott, who was rifling through his notes.

"What happened?" Stiles asked, pushing the disappointment to one side and taking a seat much like Derek had the night before, half listening to Scott’s recount of a run-in with another Spirit and half staring out the window, where he thought he could see a dark figure crouched in one of the trees opposite his house. When he looked back, though, the shape was gone, and Stiles mentally berated himself for the useless wishful thinking.

Derek listened into every word from where he was sat above Stiles’ window, and he pulled back when Stiles stuck his head out an hour later, not knowing how he would be received after the moment of weakness the night before.


End file.
